


The Luck of the Draw

by Axelrocks



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 12:32:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8845237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Axelrocks/pseuds/Axelrocks
Summary: Buying a lottery ticket was something Carol had wanted to do the moment she turned eighteen. Actually winning came as a surprise. But now, that meant her last summer before college was going to be an adventure filled with fun, and her best friend Daryl. And maybe, if her luck continued, she and Daryl would finally be something more... Caryl AU. No zombies.





	

**Chapter One**

Daryl Dixon felt like an annoyed mother as he tapped his foot on the linoleum of the dingy gas station. Arms crossed, he stared at his best friend. "Smokes or a lottery ticket? Sounds like a pretty damn easy decision to me."

His best friend, Carol Spencer, didn't even spare him a glance over her shoulder as she bounced on her toes by the counter. Her eyes were scanning the different types of cigarettes and flashy lottery tickets. The moment she would stop bouncing, Daryl knew her decision was made.

Fuck, she must have calves of steel.

"Seeing as one can give me cancer, I'll have to agree." Finally, her flip-flopped feet settled firmly on the yellow tiles and Daryl let out a breath of relief. She turned to look at him, then, her curly auburn hair fanning out as she did and he caught a whiff of her shampoo. Strawberry.

His damn truck always smelled like strawberries. (Not that he minded).

"Lottery tickets can give you cancer? Huh. Guess you learn somethin' new every day."

Carol leveled him with a look that Daryl had coined the 'I'm fucking done with you, Daryl Dixon' look and punched him in the arm. "Shut up. And you should know what gives you cancer, Mr. I-Got-An-A-in-Health-Class."

Sophomore year, they had taken the class together and Carol was still sore that she had gotten a B+ while he had gotten an A. It probably didn't help that he had lorded it over her the rest of that year.

"That's right. I did get an A," he said smugly, causing Carol to roll her eyes and turn her back on him once more. Behind the counter, the cashier was giving them suspicious looks between ringing up customers. They had been standing in the same spot going on fifteen minutes, now. Daryl would have looked at them suspiciously, too.

"You know, you can always just scrap this idea. There's other things you can do,  _places_  you can go since you're eighteen now."

"And where's that?" Just a look his way and just from that brief glance, he read so much in his friend's face. Her eyes had been narrowed, eyeing him with suspicion.

"The strip club," he said a little quieter, just in case the cashier was listening to them as well as watching them.

Carol slowly turned her whole body to face him, eyes slits. "There is  _no_  way I'm going into one of those.  _Especially_  alone."

"Of course you wouldn't go alone," he said matter-of-factly. "I'd go with you."

"You're too young," she said, a mischievous gleam in her eyes and she stepped closer to pinch his cheek. "Poor baby Daryl is only seventeen."

He knocked her hand away, glaring. "I might only be seventeen, but I have the best friend in the world who'd definitely sneak me in." He gave her one of his rare, full smiles, hoping that the sight of it would convince her. It wasn't like he really wanted to go in one of them. He was just curious. That was all.

"Uh. No." Carol was not buying it and her turned her back on him for the third time. "Besides, I may be  _your_  best friend in the world, but today has shown me that you're not mine. You didn't even give me a birthday present." From the tone of her voice, Daryl could tell she was pouting.

"Damn, Carol. I told you. I forgot it at home this morning and if you would hurry the fuck up, we could go and grab it before your dinner with your parents."

"All right. A few more minutes."

Knowing Carol, a few more minutes could mean hours. Daryl groaned and rolled his eyes, debating whether or not he should go sit in his truck and wait. But he knew that she had wanted him there. Today was her eighteenth birthday and she was going to buy something she couldn't have the day before when she was only seventeen.

"Okay, I'm ready!" She announced and finally stepped up to the cashier. "I would like one lottery ticket, please."

The man flashed her a fake smile, one he had used on every customer that had walked into the gas station, and stepped over to a machine. "I.D?"

Proudly, Carol dug in her purse for her wallet and slid the plastic card across the counter. "Here you go."

The man glanced at it and slid it back. "Happy birthday," he said, blandly. "Now, what will your lucky numbers be? I need six pairs of two number, like twelve, thirty-four, fifty-six..." he droned, as if he was reciting a script.

"Perfect," Carol said. "Zero-five, twenty-three, zero-seven, twenty-seven, zero-eight, nineteen." The cashier didn't even blink an eye at the numbers and punched them in.

"Why those numbers?" Curiosity had Daryl joining Carol at the counter.

"My birthday, your birthday and the day we became friends," she answered easily.

"Ah," he said, perfectly okay with the answer and accepted it. Until... "Wait. You remember the date we first became friends? That was nine years ago!"

"it'll be nine years exactly on August nineteenth," she said smugly and turned to the counter just as the cashier handed her a piece of paper with her numbers printed on the top.

"Numbers will be printed in the paper on Friday. Good luck."

"Thank you." She looked over the paper and when she was satisfied, she placed it safely in her wallet. "I'll have to tell my dad to let me see the paper on Friday."

Daryl held open the door for Carol and the pair walked to his banged up truck. "So, how much will you get if you win?"

"A million dollars."

Daryl dropped his keys and just looked at her. He had thought she had bought a ticket for the small prizes, like a hundred dollars or something. Not a million dollars. Hell, he would have no idea what to do with that much money.

"It won't be exactly a million dollars," she continued speaking as if she had already won and climbed into the passenger's seat of his truck. "They'll have to take taxes out and stuff. Which I think is stupid, you know? If they were going to do that, then they winnings should be more than a million dollars, since a million is what I bought the ticket for." Carol rambled on. Daryl didn't mind. He was still in kind of shock at that amount of money.

"What are you goin' to do if you win?"

Carol shrugged. "Don't know. I guess I'll cross that bridge if it comes."

"If you win, I hope you remember we've been friends for nine years." He nudged her with an elbow.

" _Almost_  nine years. And of course, I will. However, bringing up the strip club thing is goin' to shave off a couple thousand dollars from the amount I was going to give you."

"Dammit," he staged whispered. Then, grew serious. "You know, you ain't goin' to give me a single penny of your winnings. I won't get mad."

"Maybe I want to."

"Then, I guess I won't complain." Deep down, though, Daryl knew that he would have an extremely hard time accepting the money. Their whole friendship seemed a little lopsided. Carol had him over for dinner or bought him dinner, let him sleep in of her guest rooms when things were bad at home, called out the assholes and harpies who gave him shit at school, helped him with his classes, and the list could go on.

The list was nonexistent when it came to the things he had done for her. He was just her friend, that was it. Sometimes, he wondered why she even put up with his ass.

"Stop thinking about whatever you're thinking," her voice, stern, filled the cab. "You're chewing on your lip and jiggling your leg, meaning you're thinking about something too hard. Usually something unpleasant."

Sometimes it scared him at how well Carol knew him. But it also was the same for him. He knew Carol better than his own damn brother.

"It's nothing," he waved her off, knowing that she would ignore it and plow on, anyway. However, this time, she did. Shocking him so much, he almost just blurted out everything.

"So, are you sure you don't want to come with us tonight?"

"Naw, I'm good. 'Sides, I'm sure your parents just want to spend time with you tonight." It had taken them awhile, but Carol's parents had warmed up to them. Things were still awkward between them, though. Sometimes, he would catch her mother looking around whenever he went with them somewhere and he knew Carol noticed it, too. Carol, being Carol, always said something about it later and they would get in a fight. Daryl hated that, so he decided to spend less and less time with them as possible.

"You sure? They have great food and I know how much you love food." She poked his stomach, which wasn't flabby, but she liked to tease.

"I'm good," he said again. "I think I have a box of macaroni and cheese at home that I've been eyeing for a few days." It was the only thing they had in the house and he had no idea how long it had been sitting there in the cupboards. His dad hadn't left him any money for groceries. No big surprise there. If it weren't for Carol, Daryl probably would have starved to death a long time ago.

"Fine," she pouted and crossed her arms.

They were silent until they pulled into Daryl's driveway. He hopped from his truck as soon as he cut the engine and raced inside, glad that his dad wasn't home, but still wanting to get out of there quickly. The less time spent at his house, the better.

Carol's gift was sitting on his nightstand, wrapped and everything. There was no telling how many feet of damn wrapping paper he had gone through trying to make it perfect. It still wasn't. But she was just going to rip it up, anyway.

"Here," he tossed the box to Carol once he made it back to his truck.

"It has snowmen on it," she observed.

"So?"

"I like it." She smiled.

"Well, it ain't your present. It's what's inside that is. Open it."

"Okay." With relief, Daryl was glad that Carol just tore off the paper. He was afraid she would try his patience and open it one corner at a time.

Daryl drummed his fingers against the steering wheel and gazed out the windshield, nervous. When she gasped, his eyes darted her way.

One hand was covering her mouth and the other was holding up a delicate gold chain with a Cherokee Rose pendant dangling at the end. Daryl had seen the necklace in old man Horvath's antique shop. He had gone in, asked how much it was and walked right back out. Dale stopped him, though, said if he did some odd jobs around the place, he'd sell it to him for cheap. It had taken three months of working weekends cleaning shelves, dusting off corners and any other thing Dale asked him to do before Daryl decided he could buy it. (He also had a little nest egg for emergencies now, too).

"Daryl," she breathed, tears brimming her eyes. "It's beautiful." She shoved it at him. "Put it on me!" She presented her back to him and lifted her hair. There was that whiff of strawberries again.

It took his clumsy fingers a few tries before finally worked the clasp and Carol admired the piece of jewelry as it hung from her neck. She threw her arms around him and held him close. "I love it, I love it and I love  _you_ , Daryl Dixon."

Those words may have frozen Daryl, but she had said them before. She loved him like a friend. That was all.

"I'm glad you like it." His face was growing hot at her proximity, but he didn't push her away. He liked having her close.

"I'm going to cherish it forever." She pulled back, held the pendant in her hand and rubbed a thumb over it. "Thank you!" She kissed his cheek and sat back in her seat.

Daryl wanted to sit there for a little longer, but she needed to get home to get ready for her dinner. Her parents would probably give him some kind of disapproving look when he pulled up.

* * *

Five minutes later, they were pulling into Carol's driveway. Her dad was the local attorney and her mom was a nurse, meaning they were well-off and Carol's home was one of the larger ones in the neighborhood. Carol was an only child and had been spoiled growing up, but that hadn't altered her attitude or made her think she was better than everyone. It was one of the many,  _many_  things Daryl liked about her.

"I'll miss you," she said, pouting when he once more refused to go with her to dinner and picked up her book bag from the floor.

"You're goin' to see me tomorrow mornin'," he grumbled.

"So? I'll still miss you."

Daryl rolled his eyes, feigning annoyance. "Get out of here."

"I'm going," she giggled. "Thank you again, for the necklace."

"It was nothing."

Carol reached over the seats and grabbed his hand. "It wasn't nothing, Daryl. It's the best gift anyone has given me."

"Yeah, until your parents give you some real jewelry," he said. He didn't say it to be mean, it was just the truth. The necklace hadn't been cheap, but her parents could definitely afford something twice or even three times the amount.

Carol looked at him, disappointed. "This is real to me, Daryl. They could give me a hundred diamond necklaces and yours would still be the best." She squeezed his hand. "I hate when you put yourself down. I'll see you tomorrow." She gave him one last smile and closed the door behind her.

Daryl watched her go, heart beating double time for no reason.

Okay, it had a reason. It always had a reason. Carol told him that she loved him a few times during their friendship, but he wasn't fool enough to think it was more than friendship love. However, if he were to ever say the words back, they would be the real deal.

He was in love with Carol, his best  _friend_. Meaning, he was screwed.


End file.
